The complete story of this strange presence of death

In my early teens throughout my early 20s, I had this strong sense that I would die young, violently. Part of this sense had to do with what I envisioned myself doing in the future. I pictured myself working with gangs, ministering to them on the streets. As I got into my mid-twenties, the presence of death subsided within me.

Within the last two weeks of February in the year 2008, the appearance of death has revisited me. I want to document its path so that all can understand that I am not just superimposing random incidents, though, some of you may still feel, after reading these words, that I am being dramatic about some mere coincidences. So be it. I'm just trying to read the signs on the wall. I'm just paying attention to a sixth sense.

Let's start.

About four weeks ago, I found a bunch of bumper stickers that I had purchased about eight months ago when I was in California with a dear friend. I had thought that I had lost these bumper stickers because I couldn't figure out where I had misplaced them in my house. I was ecstatic when I found these bumper stickers. I looked through the lot of them and I chose four that I wanted to eventually put on my suitcase. The four were:

COEXIST (with each letter being drawn with a symbol from all the world's religions)

"Why do we kill people, who kill people, to teach that killing people is wrong?"

"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one." – John Lennon

Homophobia is a social disease.

Those were the four. Not a big deal; they were just bumper stickers.

Jump ahead.

Two weeks later, I woke up in the middle of the night because my stomach was bothering me, and I could not sleep. I decided to watch a couple of episodes of Joan of Arcadia. Unbeknownst to me, at that time, my mother, around the same time, jumped out of her sleep, panicked, stricken with an overwhelming fear that something bad was going to happen to me. But then again, my mom can worry about all her children. That's what mothers do. I didn't hear about her concern until the next day. I heard it in her voice: she was scared. I just ignored it, at the time, because she was annoying me. But I would like to go back to Joan of Arcadia for a minute.

I've spoke about this before, but I will reiterate now. Joan of Arcadia is not just a t.v. show to me. For some reason, (this will sound crazy to some of you), it speaks to me as if God is directly speaking to me, bringing forth lessons I need to learn or to which I need to pay closer attention. The first episode I watched in the wee hours of the morning was extremely moving to me. I cried because I felt so moved and sad by the story. I felt sad because of the people I've hurt in my life and those who have hurt me. That is what I was taking away from it at that moment. However, there was a scene in this episode that struck me as well. At the beginning of the episode, God, in the form of an older woman, said to Joan, "You need to pay close attention, Joan. You are about to be tested, and I need you to pay very close attention." A similar statement was repeated later on in the episode by God, in another human form. I wasn't paying attention at this point.

Jump ahead with me.

On Friday, February 22, I had a snow day. (Yay, for me!) I watched movies all day. One of the movies I watched was "The Killing of John Lennon", a story about Mark David Chapman, John Lennon's assassin. This guy, Chapman, was most assuredly mentally ill. He became obsessed with John Lennon being a phony and felt that his life mission was to kill Lennon. And that's what he did. John Lennon died a tragic, violent death. The movie was unsettling, but I wasn't reading the signs, yet. It was just a movie that made me think about the possibility of someone doing that to me.

(Now, my friends, I'm not having a god-complex nor am I thinking that I am so important that of course someone will want to kill me. Still, at times, I pay close attention to individual reactions after I do my show. Some of the reactions that I have experienced from audience members have been extreme, not violent, but extreme. After watching the killing of John Lennon, it just gave me pause to think about this. John Lennon and I shared a similar vision and philosophy concerning the world.)

In between my movie watching, on this Friday, I was burning CDs onto my iTunes so that I could eventually put it onto my iPod. There are several artists of whom I have multiple CDs. The ones for which I have the most CDs are: Bob Dylan, Ani DiFranco, Greg Brown, 2PAC, Larry Norman, Tori Amos, and Bright Eyes. When I load any one of these artists onto my iTunes I try to load their whole collection, so as not to forget which ones I have remaining.

Friday, I decided to put Larry Norman onto my iTunes. Larry Norman brings back a lot of memories for me. He has been labeled the grandfather of Christian rock. I hadn't listened to his music for quite some time; it was cool revisiting his planet. I looked up his website to see if he had any recent CDs. He did, but I couldn't order any of them because his website was under reconstruction. I saw that he was still doing performances, but had cancelled his last show on February 1^st.

Now, as I was burning some of his CDs onto my computer I went looking for my "Juno" cd. "Juno" is a movie that was up for best picture. I found my Juno cd underneath a movie called, "Across the Universe," a musical movie using no other music except Beatle songs. John Lennon was a member of the Beatles. At this point, I started feeling those old feelings of death. They weren't overwhelming, but they were there. I started to read the graffiti on the wall.

On Saturday, I continued to burn more cds of Larry Norman. I have too many cds of the man!

On Sunday, I woke up with a more intense feeling of my own death. There was science of logic to it, but it was strong. In getting dressed and packed, I grabbed my bumper stickers and put them on my suitcase. If you remember, one of the bumper stickers was, "You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one." – John Lennon. My eyes were wide open.

On the plane, flying to Minnesota, I put my iPod on randomized and just mellowed to music. Currently, I have 7,634 songs on my iPod. That's a lot of songs! So, I found it odd that within the 1^st 10 songs two of them were John Lennon songs, one of them being "Imagine," the song from where the bumper sticker received its words. My heart started to race a little bit more.

On my drive to my hotel, I called Tessin. We are no longer married, but we have remained very close to one another. I needed to speak with her about what she needed to do, if anything were to happen to me. I told her that I had a very strong sense of my own death. I felt certain that I was to die soon, tragically. She immediately said, "Please, Michael, please, don't say that. I didn't tell you this because I didn't want to scare you, but in this last week, I have had two dreams of police officers coming to my home to inform me that you have been killed." I then thought about my mother's strong, frightening sense of some danger involving me. I shared this with Tessin. I scared Tessin.

On Sunday night, I wrote a blog on my MySpace. These are the words with which I started: 'There is no simple way to say this, so I will not mince words: My death feels imminent.' I tried to briefly explain to my readers that I feel this very strong sense of my untimely death. I was reading the writing on the wall, trying to make sense of it all.

On Monday evening, I read on Randy Stonehill's blog the following words: "Larry Norman's Passing to the Next Life." What? I read it. Larry Norman had died in his home on Sunday, two days after I 'randomly' (for you skeptics) began putting his music onto my iTunes. Now, understand this, I hadn't listened to Larry Norman for more than a year. I stunned into silence.

I scanned the internet for any articles I could find. One of the article that I read said the following words: "In a message posted on his Web site, written the day before his death, Norman said he knew death was imminent." He wrote that message the day after I looked at his website.

It's strange. I felt oddly comforted by Larry's death. I felt that I was not making up what I was feeling. And then the words of Joan of Arcadia hit me, again, "Pay attention, Michael. You are about to be tested."

I don't think that I necessarily have to die, yet, but I think that something is coming that will challenge my very physical existence, and if I pay attention, I will be able to survive it. I feel as if God may be giving me a chance to make that choice. I don't think my death is what is supposed to happen, unless I am careless, unless I fail to pay attention. The writing on the wall is too great to call it random. I am comforted by this, as well. And know this, my friends, (this includes you, my dear one), I love you deeply. I do not love wisely, but too well.

Thoughts on my daughter

Pet peeve. So, people want you, as a parent, to be tied to the themes of collective parenting. You discover this before your child is born, and throughout the child’s development. It goes something like this . . .

Be Giddy

At your child’s birth, you must be giddy, blown away by the fact that you produced (or involved in producing) this wonderful gift. Happiness should abound, doubt needs to be discarded; all is well.

The Famous Question

The famous question comes in form of a question, and sometimes it comes in the form of a statement. Simply stated, “Can you imagine your life without your child?” Or “I bet you can’t imagine what you did before your child was born!” People who say these things tend to have the same dumb, annoying smile spreading across their smackable faces.

The Innocent Fantasy

The innocent fantasy comes in a couple of forms, from what I can see. People want their children to remain “innocent” for as long as possible or forever, whichever one happens last. Or they raise holy fire on sport athletes if they show their deteriorating humanity, because, you know, their kids are going to be ruined now. Their children have idolized these athletes and these athletes owe their lives, their perfection, to the generation of innocent children. Dammit!

Just you wait

“Oh, well, just you wait until they become teenagers . . .” And blah, blah, blah.

My response

The birth of my daughter was not a happy day for me; I was embarrassed. I didn’t see myself as a father. I didn’t want to be a father. Nothing about the position offered solace. I didn’t love Saskia until she was five months. Friends couldn’t understand this . . . or could they? I think some could, but they were afraid about what the pressure police would think. I was anything but giddy at my daughter’s entrance.

Yes! I can very clearly imagine my life without my daughter in it. Do I wish this to happen? By no means! However, my life was not empty without my daughter; it is filled differently, now, but it feels more like a reshaping than a mere filling. And perhaps it is best stated by this card I picked up a couple of months ago: There are lives I can imagine without children, but none of them have the same laughter and noise. My days with my daughter is a gift, if she were taken from me tomorrow, I would be less for a while, but eventually more, having known her pretty voice. And my life would continue.

I don’t want Saskia to be innocent forever. I don’t. One of my friends was asking me how I will explain to Saskia about my art and photography collection. I have paintings and photography, hanging in my house, which entails artistic levels of nudity. I have no shame about this. They are not pornographic, and I do not hold puritanical sensibility when it comes to art . . . or life for that matter. I will have little to explain to Saskia. In truth, it will be society who must explain their position: to hide that which is beautiful.

In addition, Saskia will be her own hero, her own self striving to become her better self. No idols or expectations of perfection within the human race. Failure is part of our humanity, our essence, our greatness. We can do something that supposedly God cannot do: we can fail; we can grow.

And as far as waiting until my daughter turns a teenager, I will be ready when it happens. I love a challenge, and I don’t run from fights or roaring bears. I simply breathe, hoping to calm to storm and quell the tribulation. We’ll see. . .